Hiking Fail

As our weather has gotten cooler, so have our weekends! We pack up our snacks, harness up the pup, and off we go for some outdoor adventures. We’ve been hiking these past few weekends. Perfect hiking weather; cloudy, cool and slightly breezy.
This past trip was somewhat of a doozy.  Emmie was content to hang out in the back-pack and commune in her own special way with nature, and Oliver was thrilled to be zipping in and out of bushes.  We snacked on Cliff bars, and sipped our waters. We ventured on the off-beaten paths for hours, literally! 
Finally exhausted, and way past nap time, we head back towards the car. We let Emerson out so she can hike and stretch her legs, and while we were stopped took a picture or two. I then simply passed her off to her Daddy so I could fiddle with the camera when it happened! My decades of bragging, “I have only ever been stung by a bee once,” ended. 

At first I through I accidentally smacked a thorn bush, but as the intense pain started radiating through my hand I realized what had happened.

Me: “I was stung! Something got me! OH MY GOSH I WAS STUNG BY A BEE!”

Hubby: “I see it. It’s a little bee… it’s flying towards me. Oh sh*t it’s on my faaaa—” And then there were a few f bombs as the bee proceeded to sting the hubster on the chin.

Me: “Save the baby! Don’t let her get stung! oh, my god, it hurts so much! Run! Run! Keep Emmie safe!!!”

The shouting and swearing (hubby should’ve been a sailor) continued as our hands and faces throbbed and we sprinted down the rocky trail. And what was our dear, dear daughter doing all this time? Oh, that sly devil was laughing hysterically! I mean, full on roaring. We were quite the sight when we stumbled back onto the main path. We hadn’t realized how close we were when we started all the racket. I mean, I might have been a little bit quieter when I shouted out behind me, “The poop! The poop! GRAB THE POOP!” Because in the mess of it all, the poop bag had been dropped. 
We got quite a few looks as we stumbled out cursing, waving our hands filled with poop bags, as our off leash dog padded about and our child, hidden almost completely (good job Daddy!), laughed like a maniac.

I may not be able to brag that I haven’t been stung in two decades, but at least my bee sting came with a good story. That’s all we can hope for in life, good stories. Although, I wouldn’t mind waiting another 2 decades for my next sting, those little buggers hurt! 

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